


The World Is Mine Tonight

by dirtylittlegreasemonkey



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 14:29:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11254860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtylittlegreasemonkey/pseuds/dirtylittlegreasemonkey
Summary: Day Two of Bottom!Robert Week: OutdoorsAaron and Robert find the perfect end to a summer's day.





	The World Is Mine Tonight

It’s approaching nine. That summer-heavy stickiness giving way to a cooler dusk, a light breeze flapping the tails of a parasol. A few empty beer bottles dot across the table, a half-eaten salad, the charcoal remains of a barbeque under the shade of the house. They’re growing up, or growing old. It’s almost civilised. Liv’s on some far flung trip around Bali and Adam, Vic and the little one are packed into a car on the motorway now, bloated and sunburnt. It’s just the two of them.

Aaron and Robert sit with a final beer, feet stretched out ahead and the low sun scratching at their eyes. They might stay out here until the stars come out, but they might not. It’s quiet. Beautiful. There are birds they don’t know the names of chittering in the trees and there’s not a cloud to be seen.

“What are you thinking about?” Robert asks, his voice soft but breaking the silence. His lips are wet and red, slipping away from the top of the beer. There’s a little ridge of a frown on his forehead where there doesn’t need to be. No, because today had been perfect.

Aaron puts his bottle down and wipes the damp condensation from his hands onto his knees, looking over to his husband of six, nearly seven years. His hair is blonder. Skin more tanned than it should be considering the hours he puts in at Home James. Body more slender since they realised they couldn’t eat like men in their teens anymore. And yet, every bit the same, every bit as handsome as he had been that first moment when Aaron had really allowed himself to _look_.

“You,” Aaron says simply. “This. Today. Us.”

He smiles. Aaron feels like he might die from it. And Robert reaches out, hand on Aaron’s leg.

“I couldn’t be happier,” Robert says.

It’s getting sentimental. He’s always uneasy when their conversations move in these directions, like saying it will jinx it. Break the spell. Somehow make their imperfect perfect life, shatter. Not that it hasn’t come close, summers and summers ago, but fractures and scars don’t make things less beautiful.

“It’s the beer talking,” Aaron says, watching on as Robert downs another mouthful.

“No. No,” Robert says, a gentle shake of his head. “It’s not that…or too much sun either.”

“What is it then?” Aaron asks, holding his stare. He wants him to confirm it, though he’d never admit to needing the words, wanting the words like oxygen.

“You don’t like when I get soppy…” Robert runs his finger around Aaron’s wrist and strokes the underside of his arm.

“It’s been the best day,” Aaron says. He can hear himself – he sounds almost dreamlike, floating away in this perfect evening.

There’s a playlist still shuffling through the songs in the background. Some supposed sophisticated mix Robert organised – soul and swing, old croony voices brushing against the heat and sinking in their skin.

“I love you,” Aaron says, closing one eye against the sinking sun which fizzes its way across the Dales.

“I love you too.”

The rest is slow, hazy, sun-worn. He takes Aaron into his arms and they stand against the summer sky, holding each other. It’s not dancing, nothing like it. But their chests sigh together and he finds his fingers flutter against the hair on the back of Robert’s head. The garden around them becomes noisier with the rustled sounds of leaves and creatures preparing for dusk, but Aaron doesn’t want to move from here. Robert’s mouth slides lightly against his neck, the sensitive dip under his earlobe. Aaron shivers a little, but the air is anything but cold.

“Take me to bed,” Robert says, nuzzling nose and lips into him.

He shakes his head, feeling Robert freeze with disappointment and ease away.

“I mean…it’s a nice night…we could…” Aaron says. He’s coy to say it, to take Robert’s hand and the blankets and long bench cushions to the end of the garden, but he does it anyway. They kiss on the ground, horizontally, with open mouths and Robert’s unbuttoned shirt, a condom and little slip of lube found in the folds of Robert’s wallet.

Robert’s eyes have all the darkness of a night that hasn’t yet approached, but they flicker shut like the beating wings of the passing moths, when Aaron touches him. They’re half-undressed, languid and liquid in movement. It doesn’t need to be hurried or frenzied. It’s making love, in all its corny sentiment. Inside Robert, looking down on him and watching every movement transform him, transfix him. The words they say and mean lost to breaths and weak cries of mercy, kisses without any purpose but to need each other. The remains of a family barbeque in the background, a butterfly chasing the sun, the July breeze drifting the sounds of _The World Is Mine Tonight_ across their skin.   

 


End file.
